Pirate's Promise

by Chris A. Jackson

  "Yes, it is late. We should eat."

  Vreva rose, walked to the heavy gold bell cord by the door, and pulled it to summon their meal. Strolling now to the sideboard, she reached for the wineglasses, her hand hovering as she asked, "Would you prefer red wine or white?"

  "Actually, I have no taste for wine, but ..." Zarina joined Vreva and nodded toward a crystal decanter full of amber liquid. "If that's single malt whiskey, I'd have a dram."

  "That's spiced rum, I'm afraid, but I do have something you might like." Vreva opened a cupboard beneath the sideboard and withdrew a bottle. "This is a single malt from Kalsgard. A gift from an admirer. I'm not partial to whiskey, but it's said to be excellent."

  "I'd love to try some. So much talking makes one thirsty."

  "That it does."

  With the poise and grace of a courtesan, Vreva cracked the wax seal on the cork and twisted it free with a resonant pop. As the amber liquor flowed into a crystal tumbler with a soft "tuc, tuc, tuc," she caught a whiff of its smoky aroma.

  "Water?" She reached for the crystal pitcher.

  "Neat, please."

  "I think we have much in common in our devotion to our deities, Zarina." She handed the tumbler to Zarina, and lifted her wine in toast. "May we serve them well."

  "To that, I'll drink." The two glasses touched with a musical note, and they both sipped.

  "Do you like it?" Vreva asked.

  Zarina swallowed and drew in a slow breath. "Yes. Very much. Thank you."

  "I'm pleased that you do." She gestured to the balcony. "Shall we take a little air while we wait for dinner?"

  "Certainly." Zarina followed her onto the balcony.

  *No spells, but she looks at you the way I look at the lizards that sun themselves on the balustrade.*

  Saffron's information made Vreva's back itch, but there was little she could do but remain vigilant. They chatted amiably for a time, discussing Okeno, the torrid temperatures of the tropics—to which Zarina was still becoming acclimated—and the culture of Katapesh. Surprisingly, there were no more questions about Vreva's associations, friends, or clients.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Saffron promptly ran to it. He meowed loudly, *Dinner's here!* and turned a quick circle.

  Vreva laughed, and caught Zarina's quizzical expression. "You'll have to excuse Saffron. He knows that dinner's arrived. I'm afraid he's not very patient."

  *How can anyone have patience when there's food?* Saffron yowled. *Open the door!*

  Zarina laughed, rich and unexpectedly full. "He's male. They only ever have one of two things on their minds, don't they?"

  Vreva joined in her mirth, astonished at the suggestive witticism. In yet one more way, Zarina was not what she'd expected. Vreva shooed Saffron away and opened the door to admit several of the inn's slaves. Two bore huge trays heavy with covered dishes. Two more swiftly transferred the dishes to the table. In less than a minute, they were gone. Vreva closed the door and waved her guest toward the dining table.

  "I didn't know what you liked, so I had the chef prepare several of his best dishes." One by one, she lifted the covers and put them aside, and the varied aromas rose in a heavenly bouquet. "Fillet of beef. Reefclaw in butter. Potatoes roasted with garlic. Calopus tenderloin medallions in wine sauce. Vegetables and mushrooms sautéed in meat juices. Bourbon-glazed pheasant. And, behold!" She removed the last cover with a flourish. "Iced oysters on the half-shell. I hope you see something you like."

  Zarina surveyed the feast with wide eyes. "I see many things I like—never so many at one time before. I'm not used to such luxurious fare."

  "Shall we eat?" Vreva lit the candles on the table, and instinctively slipped into her roll of hostess, asking Zarina what she preferred, and serving.

  "So, Vreva, you're Chelish?"

  Vreva braced herself for another round of conversational cat and mouse. "Yes. Hence, my love of Chelish wines." She raised her glass and took a sip.

  "And why come to Okeno?"

  Vreva took a bite of rare steak and chewed as she prepared her answer. No lies. "I had a falling-out with my parents. We didn't see eye to eye on many issues and, being young and ...headstrong, I rebelled by leaving their home and my country. I discovered my true calling in devotion to Calistria, and settled here in Okeno."

  "Ah, that's sad. You should never lose the comfort of family."

  Then, much to Vreva's amazement, Zarina began chatting about her own family—parents, three brothers and two sisters, myriad cousins, aunts and uncles—and the beauty of the forests and mountains of Varisia with real longing in her voice. Vreva expected more probing questions about her own life, but they never came. True to her word, Zarina did not discuss business during dinner. Vreva analyzed every word the inquisitor uttered, but could detect no more than well-mannered conversation. Actually, it was more than just well mannered, it was interesting. She found herself laughing aloud at Zarina's tales of her youthful exploits with her older brothers.

  *Careful!* Saffron yowled from beside her chair about halfway through the meal. *You're dropping your guard!*

  "Oh hush, Saffron." She cut a tiny wedge of steak and held it down for him. "He's such a moocher sometimes." She mentally thanked him for the reminder. This was the woman who had tortured Fieson. Vreva could not afford to relax her vigilance around Zarina Capoli.

  Half an hour later, however, Vreva considered the woman across the table in a new light. Zarina was laughing at an anecdote Vreva had just recounted, nothing but a pleasant dinner companion. Is she just acting? The meal had already lasted longer than she had expected. Why is she dragging this out? Is she hoping that I'll drink too much and let slip some bit of information to implicate myself or someone else?

  "Ah, Vreva." Zarina wiped mirthful tears from her eyes. "You don't know how refreshing it is to have a normal conversation with someone. So many people see only the inquisitor, not the person. Unlike yours, my calling is a lonely one."

  "A beautiful woman like you can't be too lonely. Surely, you have lovers ..."

  Zarina blushed, hesitated a moment, then replied, "One only. We met while I was studying in Abadar's seminary in Magnimar. She ...didn't approve of my choice to become an inquisitor, and our association ended poorly." She sipped her whiskey, a fleeting, painful smile flashing across her lips. "I left right after taking my vows, and she didn't even come to say goodbye."

  Yet another piece of information for the profile.

  "I understand." Vreva heaved an empathetic sigh. "There were no goodbyes when I left home, either." After a long, careful pause, Vreva finished her wine and rose. "Can I freshen your glass?"

  "Please." With another fleeting smile, Zarina emptied and handed over the crystal tumbler. "I didn't mean to spoil the conversation."

  "Nonsense! You didn't spoil anything." Vreva took their glasses to the sideboard to refill, smiling inwardly. She trusts me! The courtesan had been reading people for too long not to see the truth. Her strategy to be open and helpful was working. Now all she had to do was get the inquisitor to leave.

  *She's watching you walk, Vreva! I mean really watching!*

  Vreva picked up the whiskey bottle and poured slowly, broadcasting her confusion. Saffron yowled impatiently again.

  *She's looking at your ass right now! I swear to Calistria!*

  "Saffron, what a noise!" Turning, she caught a glimpse of Zarina staring at her with alarming intensity.

  The inquisitor looked away, fixing her eyes on her plate. "He certainly is insistent." She cut a tiny wedge of meat and picked it up with her fingers. "May I?"

  "Of course." Vreva sent an empathic message of curiosity to Saffron. Was he sure?

  After snatching the meat, Saffron meowed, *She looked at you like she's still hungry, but I don't think she wants more potatoes.*

  Oh, for the love of Calistria.

  A dangerous plan began to form in Vreva's mind, and her hand moved almost of its own volition. Opening the secret drawer in the sideboard, she
plucked a tiny vial from her hidden stash, the same toadstool toxin she used on Werreg. The clear liquid vanished in the glass of strong whiskey. She had to be absolutely sure before she pushed her plan beyond the tipping point. The toxin would ease Zarina's inhibitions, and might just bring the truth to light.

  Turning, she smiled at her guest and sauntered back to the table, moving with all the grace and sensuality that years of training had instilled in her, but without being overt. Careful ...careful ....

  *Vreva? What are you doing?*

  She ignored Saffron's question. She knew exactly what she was doing. If Zarina found her attractive, Vreva could use that, and perhaps even ply her for information. What had she found out from Fieson? What did the slavers know about Andoran? It was all there for the taking. As she approached the inquisitor, she passed the crystal tumbler under her nose, inhaled deeply, then sighed.

  "I must admit that I find the aroma ...invigorating. Do you mind if I have a tiny taste?"

  "Not at all." Zarina paused, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth.

  Vreva took the smallest of sips, not enough to imbibe an appreciable amount of the toxin, but enough that the taste of the strong liquor spread through her mouth like liquid fire. She swallowed and drew a sharp breath. Setting down her wineglass, she fanned her mouth daintily. "Oh, my! That's ...something!"

  "It's an acquired taste, I think," Zarina said with a smile.

  Vreva passed the drink to Zarina, making sure their fingers brushed lightly as the glass changed hands. "I'm glad I'm able to provide something to your taste."

  Zarina sipped the whiskey and put her glass down a little too hard. She looked down at her plate again, a blush rising up her neck. "There's a lot here to my taste. My compliments. It's delicious."

  Is that shyness or reticence? Vreva took her seat. Or something worse, like duty?

  "Alas, I can't take any credit. Quopek has a master chef in his employ. The cuisine is divine, but it's a sin what it does to my figure." She smoothed her dress against her torso, noting her guest's furtive glance. "Ah, but you still haven't even tried everything. I highly recommend the reefclaw."

  Zarina helped herself to a piece of reefclaw. Cutting off a bite, she dipped it in the melted butter and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she blissfully chewed. She swallowed, then chased it with another sip of whiskey. "The flavor brings back memories of home. Reefclaw's a favorite Varisian dish for celebrations."

  A seduction, one of Vreva's trainers had taught her, should be like the waves on the shore, advancing and retreating until, finally, they gently wet the dune. Too much too soon, and the dune is washed away.

  "I must say, Zarina, you're not what I expected from an inquisitor."

  "Oh?" She ate another bite of reefclaw, one dark eyebrow arching as she chewed. "How so?"

  "You seem ...too full of life to be devoted to such a strict indenture."

  "Abadar's calling isn't for the weak, I'll grant you that, but I could say the same about you, no?"

  "The life of a courtesan is hardly fraught with hardship!" Vreva laughed, sweeping her hand to indicate the apartment. "I'm not exactly suffering here."

  "You live in luxury, true, but the people you ..." Zarina blushed and sipped her whiskey to cover the lapse. "Your clients. Do you never feel like one of their slaves? Forced into serving them?"

  "Never." Vreva speared a medallion of calopus, perhaps with too much vehemence, and put it on her plate. As she diced it into small bites, she said, "I choose my clients, Zarina. And I deny more than half of those who send requests."

  "But some of them, you must admit, aren't very attractive." Her brow arched. Perhaps it was the flickering candlelight, but Vreva thought that the inquisitor's pupils were dilated. The toxin was taking effect. It was time for another gentle push.

  "Beauty, my dear, is only skin deep. Desire, however, runs deeper." Vreva ate a bite of the lusciously marinated meat and chased it with a sip of wine, savoring the flavors. "That's what I look for in a client. That's what truly pays homage to Calistria. Deep, carnal desire ..." Vreva shivered and smiled her most sultry smile. "Some pray to their gods. I pay homage by igniting people's desires. I feel their fulfillment, and through them, praise Calistria."

  Zarina stared at her for a moment. Her mouth opened, then closed again, and she reached for her whiskey glass. She halved its remaining volume in a single swallow.

  Yes ...One tiny step closer, my dear ...

  *Careful, Vreva! She's an inquisitor!*

  Vreva ignored Saffron. She was on familiar ground here. All she required was interest from her quarry, and Zarina's interest was clear. Cutting a bite of pheasant, Vreva dredged it through the bourbon glaze, then leaned across the table and held out her fork. "Have you tried this yet? It's absolutely decadent."

  "No, but ..." A brief war raged behind those sharp golden eyes, then Zarina leaned forward, opened her mouth, and took the bite of pheasant. "You're right. It's delicious." She looked down, took up her glass and downed her remaining whiskey.

  Vreva suppressed a smile of amusement at the conflict between duty and desire in Zarina's eyes—Green dress be damned. Try to keep your self-control, my stalwart servant of Abadar—and moved in for the final attack. She knew she was right. Years of seducing slavers, nobles, merchants, and even priests told her so, and once she broke through that shield of duty, that armor that no arrow or blade could pierce, she would hold the inquisitor in the palm of her hand.

  "I think it's important to try a little of everything, don't you?" Vreva plucked an oyster from its bed of ice. With long-practiced motions, she dashed two different sauces over the exposed mollusk, then tilted it into her mouth.

  Zarina swallowed hard, and looked dubious. "I've never eaten raw shellfish."

  "Here. I'll help you." Vreva selected an oyster and seasoned it with two quick dashes, then stood and rounded the table.

  *Vreva! What are you going to—*

  "Hush, Saffron! This is not for you."

  Mixed emotions crossed Zarina's face as she watched Vreva approach. She glanced uncertainly at the morsel in Vreva's hand. "I don't think I can eat a raw oyster, Vreva. Really."

  "The flavor truly is wonderful. Are you sure you won't try?"

  "The flavor may be wonderful, but the texture ..."

  Vreva nodded knowingly. "You don't have to eat one to experience the flavor, you know."

  "I don't?"

  "No." Vreva tossed back the oyster, chewed, swallowed, and, before the flavor waned from her mouth, bent down and gave the inquisitor her very ...best ...kiss.

  Zarina tensed, her entire body stiffening in shock. A deep groan reverberated from her throat, and then her lips responded, her hands reaching up to grasp Vreva's hair, clutching her close.

  Oh, sweet Calistria ...yes ...When their lips parted, Vreva smiled at the inquisitor. "So, how did you like your first oyster?"

  "What oyster?"

  Zarina stood so quickly that her chair fell over backward, catching Vreva off guard. At the look in the inquisitor's eyes, fear raced up her spine, but she forced it down. I'm right about this. I know I am! Vreva licked her lips, and raised a hand to caress the woman's cheek.

  "Would you like another?"

  Strong hands gripped Vreva's shoulders, and again fear thrilled along her nerves. The inquisitor's eyes stared wide and intense, and her breath came short and hard. Muscles writhed along Zarina's jaw and the grip hardened to the point of pain. She muttered something in Varisian—a prayer or a curse, Vreva couldn't tell.

  Vreva trailed her fingers lightly down the folds of Zarina's gown. "So, green is for wisdom and self-control?"

  "It ...doesn't seem to be working." The inquisitor's voice trembled.

  "How can I help?"

  "Vreva, I ...I can't. You're ..."

  "I'm just a woman, Zarina." Her fingertips brushed across Zarina's stomach, felt the muscles tense beneath the fabric. "And we're not breaking any laws. I promise."

&nb
sp; "But ..." She blinked, and confusion clouded her eyes. Her will was failing, and she knew it.

  "I won't force you," Vreva said as she ran her nails up the woman's back, feeling Zarina's shudder of pleasure, "but it would be wonderful."

  Duty and desire warred for a moment longer behind those golden eyes, until finally, desire won.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The star-studded heavens over the Katapeshi plains stole Celeste's breath away. What new cosmic wonders will unfold before my eyes at the Observatory? Her anticipation grew with every passing mile. According to her calculations, they would be there by midmorning.

  "Quite a sight, isn't it?" The words sounded rasped, as if flowing from a throat long deprived of water.

  Celeste looked over at Torius with a pang of sympathy. His face glistened with sweat, even in the chill of the desert night. His hands clenched the horn of his saddle not to keep him in place, but to hide the ceaseless tremors of his withdrawals. The hardest part for her to endure was the thought that she could alleviate all his pain with a single nip of her fangs. But she wouldn't—couldn't—do that to him. The first night of their journey he had made her promise not to bite him, even if he begged her. Five more days had passed, and he hadn't asked, even though his symptoms plagued him day and night. Everyone in the expedition knew that Torius wasn't feeling well, commiserating with his tale of dining on out-of-season mangrove oysters on their last night in Katapesh.

  "How are you feeling?" She kept her voice low. Dukkol was napping in the back of the wagon—the mules didn't seem to mind Celeste handling the reins with magic—and the rest of the pirates rode in a line behind.

  "Better, I think, but it's hard to tell. It's either freezing out here, or I've still got the shakes." He gave her a wry grin and looked up at the star-strewn sky. "Can't complain about the view, though."

  "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

  "And I can't complain about Snick's contraption, either."

  "Neither can I." The barrel-shaped wheels handled the soft sand and the parched grassland equally well. The mules were having a more difficult time, now that they had left the firmer track of the Obelisk Trail, but their pace was gentle. Traveling at night helped, and they'd refilled their water casks at a well near Sabkha, so the animals were still strong.